(—this uncertainty has got me restless)
A/N: HI OH MY GOD IM SO SORRY FOR DROPPING OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH FOR MONTHS
i'll explain in the end notes if anyone wants to know but long story short i got really sick back in october and i was so fatigued i couldnt think let alone write for... close to three months? by then i'd lost my groove and it was rly hard to launch back into it... this is my longest chapter yet to make up for the delay!
Eijiro's not really sure what he was expecting when he finally saw Aizawa. Inko had called him a young man—probably because, by comparison to her, he was—but she had also said he'd been one of Katsuki's advisors one hundred years before. The end result was that Eijiro had had a completely incongruent mental image of him, something somewhere between, like, some mysterious Sheikah warrior in his late twenties, and a wizened, decrepit old sage with endless patience and kind eyes.
The Aizawa he gets is… not either of those things. Like, not even close.
Even in age, he's neither young like Inko had said, nor as old as he logically should be if he was around a century before. If Eijiro had to guess, he'd put Aizawa somewhere in his sixties; the man seems old but not tremendously so, with a few spare wrinkles pressed into the lines of his face here and there, and hair gone white with age—only the leftover strands of black littered throughout indicating that his hair wasn't always traditional Sheikah white.
But it comes down to a lot more than just his age. Eijiro's kind of surprised that the esteemed leader of the Sheikah has such bloodshot eyes and disheveled… uh, well, everything. The faint, soft smile just barely tugging at the corner of the man's lips is the only clue at all that the man's expression is ever anything but unimpressed exhaustion, which just—isn't what Eijiro would expect.
As his feet carry him further into the room, the man's eyes drowsily close again and he shifts to scratch the area just below his left eye with his pinky, letting out a slow exhale.
"Judging from your silence, I'm going to assume you don't remember me," he says before his eyes sleepily blink back open—seriously, Eijiro has to wonder if this man has slept a day in his life—and Eijiro falters in his tracks.
"Um… no, sorry," he shakes his head, biting at his lower lip in something like guilt. He—he hadn't really thought before this about the fact that he probably should know Aizawa, if they'd both been around Katsuki one hundred years before. He hadn't really sat still long enough to think about it, and now, as he studies the man's face, for the first time thinking to look for anything familiar… he tries, but he finds nothing to recognize at all. "You're—you are Aizawa, right? You—uh, Midoriya Inko? Said I should speak with you?"
Eijiro almost winces at how jumbled and awkwardly unsure it all comes out—but he hadn't really sat still long enough to think about what to say, either. Aizawa's eyebrows raise, eyes widening just slightly in surprise. Eijiro supposes that's fair, considering— ...well. Considering.
"Well," he says, his voice somewhat quiet. There's something heavy masked in his tone, and he nods slowly. "I suppose that explains how you're here. When we discovered the entrance to the Great Plateau caved in and blocked, we weren't sure what could be done. It was too near Hyrule Field to justify an effort to clear the boulders—too exposed—and no one could put forward a more rational plan to get up to the plateau to leave you a message."
Aizawa sighs, deep and honest, admiration and something a little more raw, more world-weary and mournful clear in his voice, "Midoriya Inko was a remarkably compassionate woman. I suppose it doesn't surprise me that if anyone were to make a way to help you, it would be her."
It's… hard for Eijiro to think of her as dead—weird, even with the fact that she'd revealed it herself before he left the plateau. It just doesn't click in his mind, on so many levels. Maybe it's that most of the time they spent together was under the pretense she was alive, or maybe it's that it's such a surreal notion to think that the one person he's spent the most time around since awakening wasn't even living, or maybe it's something else entirely.
Whatever it is, hearing her spoken of in the past tense is unsettling and—just—feels wrong. Sharp teeth poking at his bottom lip, he nods slightly, unsure how to respond. How to even begin to express just how much help she'd been, just how kind she was. Aizawa, for his part, doesn't seem particularly interested in waiting for an answer, though, already pulling himself back to the topic at hand.
"While your memory loss is likely going to prove problematic at some point, for now I think we should consider it a blessing in disguise."
Eijiro's jaw drops, incredulous. "Wha—how?" His lack of memory grates at him, constantly—an always-present weight on his mind whenever he does or doesn't recognize anything. It makes him feel so—so—frustrated and lost; the only connection he even has to who he is is Katsuki's voice calling to him from the castle, and he still doesn't even remember what the prince looks like.
He's adrift and clueless, and it's supposed to be a 'blessing'?
A weary huff escapes Aizawa, who levels him with his surprisingly intimidating stare. "As our crown prince was particularly fond of telling you: you, Kirishima Eijiro, have always been exceedingly reckless. I have little doubt that if you remembered everything, you would already have made an ill-advised attempt to raid the castle, without stopping long enough to listen to reason."
Eijiro doesn't particularly want to tell him that he already can hardly restrain himself from doing exactly that. Pouting slightly, his gaze drops a little as he mutters, "Inko told me I shouldn't."
"And she was able to get the advice out before you'd already charged off, a fact we can all be grateful for," Aizawa responds. Resting both his hands on his knees in front of him, the man releases a sigh. "But more so than that, there's the nature of your memories to consider. The Calamity one hundred years ago… the events that passed were catastrophic, and for those left who lived it, to even bear the memories of what we'd seen is an unimaginable weight. To bear what you endured, Kirishima… I wouldn't wish it on you, or anyone."
Inko had said something to the same effect when she'd finally begun to explain things to him—he'd been unable to hold it against her at the time, but hearing the same sentiment echoed now, he grits his teeth.
He wants to—to yell, kick things, throw a tantrum if there was half a chance it might make a difference. He has to have that right, doesn't he? To demand why everyone thinks they can decide for him what he can and can't handle—especially when it comes to knowledge about his own self.
It's just—it's not fair. None of this has been fair and he's starting to get sick of it.
As though the man can sense his line of thoughts, Aizawa leans forward, giving him a pointed look.
"Our first priority will be helping you recover your memories, Kirishima, and I am already dedicated to helping you do so to the full extent that I am able, but for now, I think we should be grateful that any time it takes you to remember will be time you can spend bracing and preparing yourself. The horrors you experienced are not to be taken lightly."
Lips pressing together, Eijiro's brow furrows. His hands fidget with the hem of his tunic in irritation, but... the assurance that Aizawa will help placates him some. The frustrating truth of the matter is, he trusts Inko completely and totally, and she had thought the same of how potentially overwhelming the news of what had happened to him could be—and if she trusts Aizawa to help him, he has little choice but to accept the man's judgment. However begrudging and incomplete that acceptance may be.
"If—then—" Not for the first time—far from the first time—Eijiro has so many questions he can't sort through that he doesn't even know where to start, his words halting and stumbling over each other in his attempt.
They're distracted before Eijiro can decide where to begin, however, by a faint creaking behind them. Eijiro turns, and he and Aizawa both direct their gaze to the entryway, where the little girl stands, fingers curled around the doorway as she peeks in with wide eyes. Eijiro feels the brunt of his stressed dissatisfaction drain, slightly, now that the tension has been broken by the interruption.
"It's all right, Eri," Aizawa calls to her gently, inclining his head. "You can come in and listen."
She hesitates a moment or two, still seeming somewhat skittish, before she slips past the door, moving closer to Eijiro.
"Eri, this is Kirishima Eijiro. You remember the stories I've told you about him?"
The little girl—Eri—nods, gaze flicking to Eijiro once more as she edges closer to him. Again, he tries to give her his friendliest and most encouraging smile despite his lingering frustration. He thinks, maybe, she seems at least a little emboldened as she continues to approach him. Little victories.
"Kirishima, this is Eri. We rescued her from the Yiga Clan not long ago, and I've been taking care of her since. I trust I don't have to tell you to be patient with her during your time in Kakariko Village."
"Of course," Eijiro responds with a firm nod, before turning again to the little girl, beaming. "It's nice to meet you, Eri."
She flushes, nodding quickly and looking down at the floor as she grabs again at the hem of her tunic. The Yiga Clan… it's another piece of knowledge that does come back to him when he thinks. They were—are—a group that splintered off from the Sheikah. His memory of history more or less seems to be intact, because he can remember, somehow, that the Sheikah clan had been scorned and shunned by a Hyrulean king thousands of years ago. Out of... fear of the advanced Sheikah technology that had since been buried, he thinks?
Most of the Sheikah had decided to give up their technological advancements and hide them under the ground, but some of them had resented the king turning on them. Those were the ones who had formed the Yiga Clan, a merciless group dedicated to bringing back All for One and bringing about the deaths of its enemies.
Which meant Katsuki, and him. He manages to avoid his expression twisting in distaste, unable to picture a clan like that as being the most nurturing of places. From what he can imagine, and what he can gather from Eri's easily frightened nature, it's a very good thing they'd gotten her out.
"Returning to the matter at hand," Aizawa says, directing Eijiro's attention back to him. "You'll know by now that one hundred years ago, the kingdom of Hyrule was destroyed. Prince Katsuki's last action before returning to the castle was to demand you be placed in a sacred slumber in the Shrine of Resurrection, to save you. His intention was to go alone to face All for One, and hold him off until you were healed, but Midoriya Izuku was here when he arrived."
Eijiro nods, brows tugging together guiltily as his gaze fell to the floorboards. "Inko told me—told me he went in my place, because he was also a chosen of Farore."
"Eijiro, look at me." Aizawa's voice is firm, and Eijiro has a hard time finding reason to refuse such a stern demand. Reluctantly, he presses his lips together and lifts his head, to meet Aizawa's gaze. Some of the exhaustion there has ebbed, replaced with something a little more fierce.
"Neither of them were under the impression that Midoriya Izuku could take your place, nor did Midoriya believe he was obligated to undertake this burden due to some nonexistent failing on your part. Do you understand?" His tone leaves no room for argument, expression steely and unyielding. "They were under no illusions that even the two of them together could do more than buy time for your return, but that is a choice they both made, on their own—and it is neither your fault, nor something they bear any resentment towards you for. Those are the facts of the matter. Do not allow yourself to think any differently. It's hardly rational to martyr yourself over this. You've already done more than most others could ever have accomplished."
Gritting his teeth once more, Eijiro's fists clench at his sides as he tries to bring himself to agree. Inko and Aizawa are both so insistent that he'd gone above and beyond, but he can't remember that, can't see any proof of it in the devastation of a kingdom he can't even recall the heyday of. The only thing he has evidence of is that he'd fallen.
Before he can argue or force himself to accept Inko and Aizawa's words, there's a tugging at his waist, surprising him out of his thoughts. He blinks, looking down to see Eri's hands wrapped tentatively around the Sheikah Slate, eyes wide and a little pleading.
"Oh, uh—" He lifts his head to look to Aizawa, unsure, but the man inclines his head in assent, so Eijiro shrugs and manages a smile directed down Eri's way, helping her unclip it from his belt. "Just... be careful with it, okay?"
She nods adorably seriously, clearly taking his words as a matter of grave importance, before beginning to poke around the Sheikah Slate with so much confidence it's like she's an old pro. Eijiro watches, impressed, and it dawns on him in the moment that he might need to rethink his prior judgments on babies using Sheikah Slates, before the matter at hand tugs at his attention once more.
He doesn't know if he can bring himself to really believe Aizawa, but it's all beside the point.
"But..." There's a furrow in his brow and an uncertain flex to his hands, no longer fisted tightly at his waist, as he tries to get his bearings. "Either way I have to help them. I'm—they're running out of time, and I'm the only one who can do this, right? So how… if I can't go to the castle, how am I supposed to help them? Inko said—said you'd know what steps to take?"
Aizawa nods, and Eijiro will concede that even if this haggard, overworked-seeming man is far from what he'd expect from a confidence-inspiring leader, or a trustworthy advisor, there's something to the man's demeanor.
He speaks as though his words are indisputable, tone almost bored in the thorough assurance that he's voicing the only logical conclusion to be drawn from all the facts at hand. It makes it hard to question or deny what he says, and the calm, methodical way he carries himself makes it hard to panic. Eijiro can see why the Sheikah would trust him to lead them, why a royal family would trust him to advise.
"The only reason Prince Katsuki risked his life returning to Kakariko at all was to entrust me with a message for you. I've been holding onto the words he intended for you for one hundred years."
Eijiro finds himself holding his breath as he waits for whatever could be such a grave message, wondering what could possibly be the kind of thing he couldn't tell Eijiro himself. This—it has to be what Eijiro's looking for, the thing that's going to give him some—direction, finally.
He's had no idea what he's doing, what he should be doing, since he woke up. It feels like he's had nothing to cling to but confusion and a sense of hurry up and wait—the urgency of being told that Hyrule needs him and that Katsuki and Izuku have been fighting his battle for a hundred years, and the maddening hindrance of being told he couldn't even go do anything about it yet. If Katsuki left such an important message, he has to know what Eijiro can do now. He has to.
Aizawa seems to be examining Eijiro as he weighs his next words, but before he can finally give Eijiro the answer he's been looking for—a small, confused sound interrupts them.
"It's broken," chimes a tiny, unfamiliar voice at his side, and Eijiro blinks as he looks down at Eri, realizing this is the first time he's heard her speak. It doesn't register for another couple seconds that she must be talking about the slate still resting in her hands, as she frowns down at it.
Alarm fills him—how can it be broken? It's practically the only way he got this far, and it's Katsuki's—Katsuki had said he'd need it to get around, he can't have gotten it broken already.
Resisting the urge to snatch the device out of a literal six-year-old's hands to confirm, Eijiro looks back to Aizawa for—for—well, he doesn't know, but maybe some reassurance, or indication that the man just assumes Eri doesn't know what she's talking about, or anything. Aizawa isn't looking at him anymore, though, and his expression is anything but reassuring. Eyes slightly wider and posture suddenly straight, in a manner that would have looked like alarm on any marginally more emotive man, Aizawa's gaze is fixed on Eri.
"What do you mean, Eri?" he asks, managing the urgency Eijiro can just barely hear in his tone admirably—for Eri's sake, presumably.
The girl frowns at the slate in her hands, looking first to Eijiro, and then to Aizawa with the most minute furrow between her brows. She has the runes screen open—all of a sudden Eijiro's doubting the wisdom of letting a little kid handle a device that can make bombs—but before he can process the concern, she answers.
"Aunt Emi's takes pictures." She taps what looks like an empty rune slot on the screen, to the right of the cryonis symbol. There's a spark of confusion in Eijiro's mind, but then he almost lets out a sigh, because if that's the only thing wrong with the slate then he still has all the things he needs—but Aizawa leans forward with a grim intensity that makes him rethink that.
"Is the album still intact?"
Eri shakes her little head, but begins operating the slate with effortless familiarity once more, switching to the map screen before confirming, "It's not there."
Aizawa hisses something under his breath that Eijiro has the distinct impression is a curse, and Eijiro's eyebrows lift slightly. Aizawa runs a hand through his hair, expression drawn together in serious thought.
"Is..." Eijiro hazards, voice tentative as he glances between Eri and Aizawa again, "is that something I'll need?"
It's another moment before Aizawa returns his gaze to Eijiro, racing thoughts having apparently run their course. "For most parts of your mission, the album will be a frivolity that has no impact." He pauses, and his tone leads Eijiro to expect the but. "But it serves a far more important purpose in the grand scheme of things." Swearing under his breath once more, Aizawa leans back wearily.
"I can't in good faith expect you to undertake any of the grave challenges laid before you if you can't even remember for yourself the importance of what's expected of you. If you have any desire to recover your memories, that album was meant to be your greatest asset."
Eijiro's eyes widen, a flash of distress sweeping through him. "Wh—but I can get my memories back without it, right?"
Aizawa's lips press together in a tight line, and again there's an uncomfortable pause before he sighs. Posture drooping, he drapes his forearms across his lap and all at once Eijiro gets the impression of the past century weighing physically on the Sheikah. "If we're being rational, we have no guarantee that you can recover your memories at all. The intended purpose of the album was to aid in that process, but there are very real possibilities that you could get your memories back without it, or that even with it you may never remember at all. What's important is not to panic."
And it's rich—it's so rich of him to say that, as if that is not one of the most panic-worthy things Eijiro has heard since waking up.
"But I—I—" His words fail him, and how could they not? How could he possibly be expected to put into words how badly he wants to remember everything about a voice that isn't even familiar to him? Maybe it's just because Katsuki was the first contact he had after waking up, but Eijiro hasn't been able to stop thinking about it—about Katsuki, more than any of the other blanks in his memory that plague him every second of the day.
It's unbalanced—he's important to Katsuki, he knows he is; he can tell just from the way Katsuki talks to him. How can he be content to know there's immeasurable history behind every brief conversation they manage to have, when he can't even put a face to Katsuki's name? How can he be content doing that to Katsuki?
"Kirishima—" There's the faintest note of impatience in Aizawa's voice, but then he stops, seemingly catching himself, and when he continues, it's with a tone minutely more gentle. "Eijiro. It's pointless to work yourself up over a scenario that may not even come to pass. You won't do yourself any favors by giving up hope just because there's a chance you won't remember. And as for the album, there's still a chance it can be restored."
Eijiro lets out a shaky breath, still trying to calm himself. It's not that Aizawa's not helping, not that his words don't have any effect, but he can't just turn it off.
"Okay," he manages—though his voice isn't as firm or as certain as he'd like. "Then, what would I need to do?" His gut still roils with unease, faintly, despite his efforts to let Aizawa's words comfort him, but he doesn't know how he's going to deal with—with any of this if he can't cling to his own next steps, to what he can do about it.
Aizawa nods, either acknowledging or approving of his attempt to focus his efforts, and the man swiftly seems to gather his thoughts. "You'll need to take that slate to my colleague, Fukukado Emi, in Hateno Village. She's been studying this technology since before the Calamity, and she knows more than anyone else in the kingdom about the slates specifically. If there's a way to restore the album, she'll either know it or she'll find it."
Okay… Okay. This is doable, if what Aizawa's saying is true. Eri still holds the slate in her hands, so he can't look at the map, but he tries to do the math from memory—not counting for the distractions and rest in the middle, it had only taken him about four hours on horseback to reach Kakariko from the horse stable, and Hateno had been about… maybe twice as far from the fork in the road?
If he leaves now—doesn't let himself get distracted along the way—he can be in Hateno maybe a couple hours after sunset, give or take, he could—he could maybe even have the slate fixed by—
"You're already getting ahead of yourself." Aizawa's sigh cuts through his thoughts. "While your eagerness is written all over your face, so is your exhaustion. And don't think I've missed that glaring bruise on your head or the way you've been favoring your left leg."
Eijiro flushes, something between embarrassment and shame, and he opens his mouth to protest—Aizawa's already shaking his head wearily.
"I understand that the position you're in is frustrating, but it's better you understand now—there is no way to save Prince Katsuki in a matter of days. There is no way to save him in a matter of weeks. The task laid in front of you is too monumental for that, and to approach it sensibly will take time. With how long this will take, you will have to learn patience eventually, and it will be better for you to do it now, when your recovering body will need it most. Have I made myself clear?"
Eijiro feels his face twisting in aggravation, eyebrows drawing together and a pout tugging at his lips. There's a few moments of silence in which he meets Aizawa's flat, unimpressed stare, and then a huff escapes him. "So… what, then? I'm supposed to just—sit on my hands, or something? Do nothing despite what's going on in the world?"
"You're supposed to take the time you need," he responds, eyes closing as he blatantly attempts to maintain his own patience. "You will have to get stronger to conquer any of the challenges put before you, and continuously throwing yourself from task to task without allowing yourself even a moment to heal from your injuries will only weaken you. Take the day to rest, get a long night's sleep in a real bed, set out after you've recuperated and not before."
Eijiro's hands flex and clench at his sides, and try as he might he can't make the tension drain despite his sigh. "Sir, I don't think I can just—sit around that long."
"Nor do I expect you to. There's hardly a shortage of things to do in the village in the meantime. If you're really at such a loss what to do, you can start with sitting down. No doubt you have countless questions about yourself, and the world. I'll try to answer them for as long as I'm able."
That—Eijiro had been so frantic to figure out what he needed to do, he hadn't even thought of all the questions that have been threatening to burst forward like a flood since—since Katsuki had first spoken to him, really. So many that he's never been able to figure out which to ask first, and, to be fair, he doesn't think he's been able to just… sit and ask them all, yet. No one's been capable of answering them, and there's always something else to do.
Scratching idly at the skin beneath his eye, Aizawa pushes on, offering more options to fill his day.
"I'd recommend acquainting yourself with the people in the village, it will be good practice; with limited travel and communication, there's no one person alive who can tell you all of the evils All for One has unleashed in this kingdom. Speaking to those who will have had to coexist with those evils will reveal far more to you than I can, and it's important to remember that there are problems on a lower scale than All for One itself. There is a fairy fountain on a hill that overlooks this village—it would be wise to touch base with her, in the event she can aid your travels. And if you're truly incapable of taking it easy for an entire day, the village has an ancient shrine that you may be able to access."
Done with his list, Aizawa blinks tiredly at Eijiro, gaze flat. "There should be more than enough to amuse you in the village for one day, but I will remind you again not to strain yourself, so I don't have to confine you to the village for another day."
Eijiro takes issue with that—it's not like Aizawa can really stop him from leaving, but… "I… fine. You… you'll really answer all of my questions?"
The Sheikah nods. "As many as I'm able, for as long as I can keep awake. The pains I took to ensure I would be alive for this day were effective, but they are, unfortunately, exhausting."
Eijiro hesitates, curious and concerned. How much of a strain did he have to undertake on Eijiro's behalf? "What… what did you have to do?"
"It's hardly anything to write home about, to be frank. I thought I told you to sit down." The last part is delivered in a slightly more stern tone, and Eijiro blinks, flushing just slightly as he hurries to do so. Seemingly satisfied, Aizawa deigns to answer in more detail. "The Sheikah have been pledged to Bakusatsuo for longer than we have been pledged to his descendants, the royal family. The result is that we've always had a special relationship with his first domain—time."
With a heavy breath and the faintest hint of a shrug, the older man continues, "It's likely I would have been alive to see this day even had I not taken special precautions; time has always been kind to the Sheikah, and not in a metaphorical sense. Oftentimes our people are blessed with exceptionally long lifespans. But there is also a sacred practice, cultivated and passed down since the first of our kind used it to aid Bakusatsuo in his first human incarnation: a meditative trance that slows our aging even further."
Aizawa grimaces just slightly. "As I said, it's nothing exciting, nor is it any sort of taxing process. But the meditation cuts into many of the hours that should typically be spent sleeping. I catch sleep when I can get it, so it will be best not to waste much more of my few waking hours if you'd like most of your questions answered."
Nodding slowly, Eijiro finds himself fidgeting slightly, gnawing on his lip with pointed teeth. "I… Man, I honestly don't even know where to start."
Aizawa tips his head in acknowledgement, seemingly unsurprised. "That's fine. Fortunately, we have time."
"Oh, man!"
Eijiro jumps, slightly, at the sudden exclamation from beside him, jerking his head around to stare at its source—he hadn't even heard anybody enter; it's like the guy had melted right through the floor or something. It's a little jarring, since everything about the man's appearance is, well, loud, from his distinct posture and animated expression, to the bright blond hair he sports in an ostentatious gelled up style, to how boisterous his voice had been.
And yet Eijiro hadn't so much as heard a door hinge or floorboard creak.
"I guess I shouldn't bring your lunch for you, huh, sir?" he asks, cartoonishly blue eyes twinkling like he's sharing a joke. "I don't want to be responsible for you falling asleep with your face in your rice again!"
Aizawa's apparently too tired to dignify that with a response.
The guy has a point, though; for the last half hour that they'd spoken, Aizawa's eyes had drooped closed more often than not, and several times Eijiro would almost have genuinely believed he'd finally fallen asleep for real were it not for the Sheikah gesturing lazily for Eijiro to continue with whatever he was saying.
"Togata," he acknowledges, sounding barely half awake. "I'll eat later. This is Kirishima Eijiro."
"Yep!" Togata responds, not skipping a beat. "Eri told me all about it." He turns to Eijiro, then, as Eijiro rises quickly to his feet, and Togata smiles wide and offers an enthusiastic bow. "Togata Mirio! Honored to meet you."
Eijiro's mid-bow when the words register, catching him off guard. His cheeks heat up and he rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck as he flounders for an appropriate response. "Oh, I—I mean… I'm just a guy, man."
"Sure," he agrees easily. "But that just makes you even cooler, though, you know?"
Aizawa takes this moment to slump down in the haphazard pile of cushions and blankets that reside on his place of honor—not very traditional, but then, he doesn't seem like a traditional guy—and the rustling pulls their attention, saving Eijiro from having to figure out how to respond to that.
"Togata, show Kirishima around the village. It would probably do him well to see what help the Great Fairy can offer him, as well. Just make sure he takes it easy, and if he tries to leave the village before a full night's rest, I give you full authorization to stop him."
"Sounds threatening!" Togata chirps, distinctly lacking any sort of hesitation as he stands up straighter and salutes. "You got it, sir."
Eijiro takes offense to that order, glancing back and forth between the two, but Aizawa seems to have passed out the moment he finished speaking so he can't even protest the lack of faith. Or the attempt to decide for him what he should do. He huffs, and Togata claps him on the shoulder, steering him towards the door.
"Come on, hero! Let's see the sights."
The sights turn out to be, well, not really much, but Eijiro wasn't actually expecting much, to be fair. Togata walks him through the village, chattering the whole way about this and that. He's kind of an odd duck, going on the strangest of tangents and making some of the most out there remarks, and he talks not just with his hands, but with his whole body. He seems to like to emphasize his words with an entire rework of his posture here, a full gesture with both arms there, a bizarre stance thrown in from time to time.
In short, he's great. Weird on the disarming side instead of the offputting side, and his quirks just make Kirishima all the more comfortable chatting back, and getting fired up himself.
The first set of important landmarks, if you can really call them that, mostly gain their notability from gossip surrounding them. Togata introduces him to a Haya Yuyu standing outside an archery supplies shop, explaining cheerfully that she'd gotten the part-time job there because she's the best archer in the tribe these days, but she can't stand to actually work inside the shop because the owner spends all her time loudly and openly lamenting her failing marriage and the fact that her husband has abandoned his own archery.
Miserably, Haya shushes them, her voice low in pitch and volume as she laments, "It's all day. 'Show me your form, Haya. My husband's form used to be like that.', 'Do you think you could hit that shot, Haya? My husband used to make shots like that without breaking a sweat.'."
She sighs, heavily, then looks to Eijiro. "Look—pretend you didn't hear this. Buy some arrows. I get paid for convincing people to shop in there, and I'm saving up to buy something cute for Nejire."
"Ooh!" Togata chips in, "She'll love that."
"Oh, um." Eijiro has no idea who Nejire is, nor has he taken a moment to count how many rupees he'd stumbled on in monster camps or hidden around the countryside. He does distinctly remember finding some hefty sums hidden in long-abandoned chests along the way. "Yeah, I'll see! Once I check how many rupees I've got, I'll make sure to stop by."
"Thank you," she replies, emphatically, before slumping down on the veranda that wraps around the shop. Togata gives a chipper wave, before once again steering EIjiro away with a hand on his shoulder.
The next place he shows Eijiro is the general store, where apparently you can find most goods from the town except for their famous fortified pumpkins—the owner's husband, fond of growing swift carrots, is in an ongoing feud with the man who grows the pumpkins, and won't let his wife sell them out of pride. It's all very amusing, Togata assures him.
After that, he shows him the inn where he'll be staying, points out a plum orchard apparently fiercely guarded by a sweet old lady, and then guides him to a dining area beside the general store. A girl maybe around nine is manning the cooking pot there, as Eri and another Sheikah girl who looks a little younger sit nearby. Togata introduces the two as Koko and Cottla, and merrily asks what's cooking as he sits Eijiro down with the younger girls and helps Koko finish preparing lunch. Togata seems to be a natural at entertaining kids, wide gestures and silly expressions drawing delighted reactions from all the girls. Even Eri, who still seems reserved in company, watches him with starry eyes.
Koko and Cottla, who seem much more bold than Eri, are very curious about Eijiro and pelt him with questions he does his best to answer through mouthfuls of food, but Togata does a good job of keeping the conversation focused on all of them. He treats all of the events and concerns in the girls' lives as just as grave and pressing as the topics he and Eijiro have to contribute, and Eijiro has to admit, it's delightful to watch.
Once lunch is finished and Eijiro and Togata have helped the girls clean up, Togata makes sure Eijiro is aware of the small shrine to Bakusatsuo across from Aizawa's home, the location of the armor shop, and the cucco coop now looked after by the infamous husband of the archery shop owner, before pulling them to a stop at the foot of a hill just up the road.
"Just up there's the shrine, and past that is the fairy fountain. Y'can't miss it!" He claps Eijiro on the back and gives him an enthusiastic shake for good measure, grinning. "I've got a shift patrolling for monsters and Yiga, but I'll see you at dinnertime. Don't leave the village or else, right?"
Eijiro shoots a glance at Aizawa's home, muted irritation trickling back in at the reminder, but when he turns back to respond to Togata's ribbing, he's just gone. Eijiro whips his head around, trying to figure out where he went, but there's no sign of him. Maybe the guy does just melt through the ground.
Regardless of how he does it, that's how Eijiro finds himself making the trek up the hill overlooking the northern edge of the village alone. The path then winds into the hills a little further, steep inclines starting to cut off the view of the village as he passes the shrine and climbs further into a wooded area. What would a Great Fairy fountain look like? He just has to hope it will stand out as much as Togata assumed.
Eijiro yelps as suddenly two—creatures? Small, and bunnylike, and glowing blue with… antlers?—startle at his presence and bolt through the underbrush, and he thinks, You know what, yeah, okay, that kind of weird shit is probably a sign of a Great Fairy. Eyes now peeled for the strange or unusual, he picks his way through the woods and—there, a flash of pink.
He makes for that, woods parting to reveal the glimpse of pink as one of a few small, glowing fairies that scatter when they notice his presence, and—
—And what the hell is that?
There's—it's—he's face to face with what looks to be the biggest flower bud he's ever seen, twice as tall as he is, closed up tight with massive thorns dotting its outside. It's, uh, definitely a sight he can't miss, and though he can't really say it looks like a fountain, he gets the feeling from the fairies that had swarmed around it and the unmistakable ramp made up of vividly orange fungus leading right up to its base that, well, he's probably in the right place.
Hesitantly, Eijiro sloshes through the clear, pristine water that pools shallowly around the bud, testing his weight on the odd platform. It holds beneath his weight, so he takes the couple of steps to stand before the plant—fountain?—and… realizes he has no idea what to do here.
He lifts a hand uncertainly, but before he can do anything he's startled by the sound of splashing and shifting, muffled from… within the plant? Then suddenly the seam between two of the leaves making up the tight bud before him push apart just slightly, and—holy shit, that's an eye the size of his whole face peeking out at him inquisitively from the gap.
"You're not Yuyu! Or Mirio. Or Eri. Well, now I'm curious!" chirps a bright, resounding voice, and Eijiro thinks, Oh, boy.
find me on tumblr at belladxne!
YEAH SO UH HI. first things first: i kind of operated under "this chapter needs to be finished, not to be good, i owe my readers something after all this time", so there were parts of it i really didn't like but i couldn't let myself get caught up in editing because i wanted this done! my friends said this is the best chapter yet despite my qualms with it, so i GENUINELY hope you guys like it.
mirio's the weirdest fucking guy on the planet and i'd kill for him without hesitation, i only hope i did him justice lmfao.
secondly, warning if any of you get antsy or anxious w/ covid talk, so, back in october, my family insisted on a road trip to see my godson for his birthday. i didn't even want to go. i was like. "we'll catch covid! this is so stupid during a pandemic!" but they were going without me and would have brought it home to me back either way, right, and so i was like, fine, because i wanted to see my nephew. well. i wore my mask everywhere and brought hand sanitizer in my pocket everywhere and didn't go out when i could avoid it, and, we caught covid! i fuckin' told them so! we honestly caught a really mild strain and got out okay, mostly, but my god. the fatigue hit SO hard. i'm so sorry.
i can't promise chapters will come out FAST after this, because like i said, i did sort of lose my groove, but i can at least promise it won't be another five months between chapters. 👉 👈
comments on ao3 are practically the only thing that fueled me to be able to get this out, so if you guys have thoughts, i'd love for you to share them!